


I love you, but you know that

by belittledtolate



Category: Post-The mortal, Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Fantastic Racism, Love, M/M, post-The Mortal Instruments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6370126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belittledtolate/pseuds/belittledtolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a new world, Alec's working to make it a better one for everyone. But in doing so is he putting his homelife last. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>I stop being able to feel my toes as I turn the corner towards my destination. It took two trains and a 15 minute walk, but I know what prize awaits me at the end and I push onward. I would go to hell and back for it, in fact I did once.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	I love you, but you know that

**Author's Note:**

> Post the Mortal Instruments and Pre Welcome to the Shadow Hunter Academy.  
> Alec tends to get a lot of flack for never saying I love you in the books. Personally I believe somethings don't need to be said. 
> 
> This is my first fic I've posted so be gentle guys. Kind of have no idea what I'm doing.

The rain came down in sheets of cold ice. Streets of neon lights, and the distant sounds of car horns filled the air as the weather tried to decide between winter and spring. I failed to fight off the shiver, as my too think sweater became nothing more then a sopping mess of wool. What I thinking when I got dressed this morning I can only guess. 

I stop being able to feel my toes as I turn the corner towards my destination. It took two trains and a 15 minute walk, but I know what prize awaits me at the end and I push onward. I would go to hell and back for it, in fact I did once. So Friday night traffic and the manic weather are just simple nuisance at this point. 

I’m tired to my bones, eyes heavy and stinging with the need for sleep. Not the quick cat naps I’ve been allowed lately, but a true deep sleep. The kind of sleep were I become one with you and the matters. Where we can lock the doors, close the blinds, and for a little while pretend the rest of the world has disappeared.  
That it’s just us, together.  
In _our_ bed,  
in _our_ home,  
with no one and nothing to bother us. The feel of your body on mine, its heat warming me through, as we lay so close we forget where I begin and you end and there’s nothing but our two hearts as they beat to the steady rhythm of the rain. 

I miss you.

I left before you woke this morning and got in after you were asleep. Unfortunately, it’s becoming a pattern. 

Today was another long day at the institute. Something has been killing mundane. Messy kills, out in the open, ones meant to be noticed. The kind that make people flinch away even as they view the pictures for the hundredth time, as though the primordial brain knows to shield the mind from the torment. 

And if there’s one thing New York loves, its torment.  
So naturally the murders have been front page news for the past couple weeks. Which would be fine if these were mundane killings done by mundanes,  
But like everything in my life, that would be to simple. 

The murders were too violent, too savage, too primal. Each with an unmistakable and tangible feeling of shadows that can only be left by a downworlder kill.

At first it looked like a rouge wolf. The tearing, the biting of the flesh, but then the next murder took a different turn. The tearing the ripping still present, but each victim empty. Drained of all blood, yet shockingly mutilated. So a crazy vampire perhaps? But then the reports came in. Accounts of strange behavior of the victims mere hours before their deaths, corpses looking years older then before.  
Leading to the suspicion of faerie involvement, or even worse, the theory of a team of downworlders working together to bring ruination to the city.  
And the loss of all sense of the clave and it’s shadowhunters. 

I’ve been trying to act as mediator. The only one with enough sense to know to not jump to assumptions of grand downworlder plans and take a second to remember Occam's razor. Pleading with others to see sense, and put aside their prejudice for a moment and personal vendettas in hopes of finding the actual killer. 

I know you’ve been trying to help. I saw your books out, the items for the locator spell. But you know as well as I do that the clave refuses to accept any help from downworlders at the moment. That somehow, after everything, we’ve learned nothing. 

But for now none of that matters. Because I’m here.  
I’m home.  
And I can see you, silhouetted by the light, like a beacon guiding me to you. Waiting for me to enter our world, where there is no silent war going on between light and dark, downworlders and shadow hunter. 

Just two people, who mean everything to one another.  
And I know I don’t say it enough, but I know you know.  
I see it in your eyes as you take me in coming through the door. Looking like a drowned rat, hair in disarray, shivering, dripping with rain, and ruining the new Persian rug you’ve mustered up, you smile at me. A small smile that already starts to warm me. 

So I shut the door, shut out the world. 

Because you love me,

And I?

I love you,

but you know that.


End file.
